How to Marry a Rogue by Anna Small

might take the wrong idea and spread some malicious gossip about her being without a chaperone. She regained her composure. “Jonathan and Sophie are back in England. I came to France with Aunt Adele.”
    “How is that dear creature? I have not seen my old friend in months. Is she having a rest inside one of the shops? It is very warm today.”
    Before Georgiana could answer, a well-dressed, big-boned young man sauntered over to them, a pastry clutched in his hand. He stared unabashedly down the front of her bodice before meeting her startled gaze.
    “This is my eldest, Herbert. We’ve been speaking with your brother about your future, my dear.” She prodded Herbert forward, and Georgiana had to control the revulsion clamoring inside her at the crumbs and bits of food on the side of his cheek. His bleary eyes never left hers, and she wondered if she should risk insulting the Richmonds by running away as fast as her flimsy little slippers would carry her.
    “My future…?”
    What possible reason could Jonathan have with the Richmonds?
    Oh .
    “Georgie, I’ve found the gypsy tent.” Jack was beside her before she’d noticed. His hair was blown about his face, and he’d loosened his neckcloth according to his habit. He stared at Lady Richmond and Herbert, seeing them for the first time. “I beg your pardon, ma’am.” He bowed, and she dipped into a slight curtsy, her brows knit together.
    Her silence spoke volumes. Glancing from one to the other, the woman finally settled upon Jack, her upper lip twitching into a sneer she didn’t bother to hide. “I am Lady Richmond, an old friend of Georgiana’s family. This is my son, Herbert. And you are…?”
    Frozen into silence, Georgiana watched Jack’s jaw clench a few times.
    His lips parted to speak, and he glanced down at her as if she held the answer.
    Frantic, she clutched his sleeve, picking at the fabric in a desperate attempt to provoke some sort of reasonable response from her brain, but she was helpless. How could she explain her presence at the fair without the accompaniment of Aunt Adele? How to explain being in the sole company of a man like Jack Waverley, with his openly teasing air and his unfastened neckcloth? A man who’d been born into an honorable family of means, yet who gambled and boxed whenever he chose?
    “Jack Waverley, your ladyship,” he said at last. “I am also an old friend of Miss Lockewood’s family.” His hand fidgeted toward his loosened neckcloth, but fortunately, he dropped it at his side when she gave him the slightest nudge in the kidney.
    Georgiana held her breath. It was too much to hope the simple response was all Lady Richmond required. They should say goodbye then leave before the woman could tell if they were figments of her imagination or flesh and blood.
    “An old friend ?” Lady Richmond’s eyes seemed to penetrate through Georgiana’s forehead as if she could see into her thoughts.
    Lady Richmond was powerfully connected to the patronesses of Almack’s. One wrong word, one innocent slip, and Jonathan and Sophie would be ruined. It wouldn’t do her any good, either.
    “He’s…we’re…Jack is….” Her stuttering did more harm.
    Lady Richmond’s breath caught, and Georgiana wondered if her lips could pinch together any tighter.
    Jack pressed his hand over hers, but panic rose inside her until she thought she would burst.
    Herbert forgot his pastry for the moment and appeared somewhat interested in the conversation. He leered at Georgiana and she shrank into Jack’s side. He clasped her hand tightly.
    “Forgive my silence,” he said abruptly. “Miss Lockewood and I are recently married. We are on our honeymoon.”
    Too terrified to look at Jack lest her amazement betray his lie, Georgiana’s breath left her in such a rush the lace trim on her bodice fluttered against her skin.
    Lady Richmond’s eyes widened until Georgiana wondered if they would pop out of her head.
    “You…are…married?” A